


The Pact

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No good deed is ever forgotten. A debt unpaid in ancient times is repaid in the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pact

He had been going to administer the severe punishment reserved for such grave offenders as herself, but he hesitated. He was perfectly aware that it was what she deserved, in accordance with the rules of the state. But looking in her eyes, he could hardly bring himself to believe she had done anything wrong.

Thinking back to the briefing, he remembered how these people were said to be guilty of high treason, and were to receive no penalty less than such scoundrels should suffer.

He'd thought of them as despicable -- lowbloods with twisted dreams far above their birthright. Held fast by this perception, he had already slaughtered swathes of her comrades. Piercing his steadfast belief, however, was this woman: she looked as if she could never do wrong in her life.

Having left her until last, he pondered how to dispatch her. What had been her role in the rebellion again? The most faithful servant of their leader; the disciple whom the Signless loved. Following this, she should be delivered a death only just below that of his!

Yet he couldn't help but be disheartened by her sorrowful stare. He found himself imagining what she must feel, and suddenly any sense of duty had gone.

Whether or not he agreed with the Sufferer's stand was irrelevant. He saw the woman on her own terms. She was a midblood, destined for a relatively trouble-free life. Knowing that, she'd still chosen to forfeit everything to serve a cause that barely involved her? He'd have thought that to be stupidity at any other time. Yet now, it struck him as nobility.

It wasn't fear for her own life in those eyes, he realised. She was practically begging him to finish. The only fear she had was for her accomplices. Her friends. And her lover.

She was still clinging onto that garment of his, mutant blood and all. She just wanted to die with his memory in her arms.

He surveyed his surroundings. Bloodthirsty rustbloods bustled all about, jeering at him to finish the job. They would not be quelled until the floor was painted with olive blood.

His usual bloodlust had vanished, replaced by a sense of overwhelming pity. It could even be pale in nature, if not for the fact that any moirallegiance between them would be utterly uncouth and completely forbidden.

Perhaps an arrow through the neck would give her a quick, clean death. Yet even that would be an injustice to someone so noble: not in blood, but in deed.

He made up his mind. There would be no more killing today.

In that moment, E%ecutor Darkleer gave a single act of kindness that would cost him all he knew. Kneeling beside her, bringing himself down to her level, he spoke one word.

"Go."

And she ran.

***

Equius isn't breathing.

She's been told to hide, to save herself. But that couldn't be further from her mind right now, with her one true moirail lying dead on the floor.

Their relationship has been strong since they first talked, despite reservations on his part -- associating this way with one of her caste is not forbidden, but frowned upon. Yet they put all this aside, instead forming a pale pact. Not quite perfect, by any means, but it felt like it was destined to be -- as if they were fulfilling a legacy from sweeps in the past.

If there's one thing she can do for him now, it's to make sure his killer doesn't escape unscathed.

She leaps from her hiding place, claws drawn and determined to avenge. Yet the murderer snaps her wrist effortlessly and draws his own blood, all the while grinning in insane ecstasy. She's no match for him.

Echoing a scene from ages past, she falls to the floor: broken and helpless, with her fate at the hands of a highblood.

This one gives no kindness.

He leaves her eventually, alone on the olive-stained floor. Beaten and bleeding, she lifts her head. Her vision's fading, her consciousness is slipping, but she needs to get one last look at the man she gave up her life for.

An ancestral mercy is repaid with loyalty. The pact remains eternal, even in death.


End file.
